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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982615">One Way Or Another</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB'>RosevalleyNB</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Aurors, Dark Magic, Death Eaters, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Violence, familial curses, minor character centric, repost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:01:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982615</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A lesser man would have given up a long time ago, would have welcomed death with open arms. Not Marcus Flint, though. He needed to get home. He promised Katie that he would, and he planned on honouring that promise.</i>
</p>
<p>A family curse is activated, Marcus is missing, and Katie is on the verge of losing her most precious possession.</p>
<p>A story told in then and now.</p>
<p>*repost*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katie Bell/Marcus Flint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Only Then - A Path Chosen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: the HP universe belongs to JK, the plotholes belong to me.</p>
<p>I originally started posting this in 2014, deleted it in 2017, and am reposting it again because I will finish my sh*t one way or another dammit. I've rewritten the first few chapters, encountered several plotholes and mistakes that needed fixing whilst ding so, and for the first time in years, I actually have an idea about the ending. Progress as far as I'm concerned.</p>
<p>Note that the first two to three chapters may feel like info-dumpy and melodramatic but that's remedied in the subsequent chapters.<br/>Lastly, most chapters start with a scene from the past and switch half-way to the present (late 90's). Told in third person omniscient.</p>
<p>You can find my older stories <a href="https://my-fic-depot.livejournal.com/">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Then<br/>
</b> <strong>September 1st, 1990</strong></p>
<p>“So, this is it?” Katie Bell, just a few days shy from turning twelve, asked sceptically. Unsure about what she was looking for, she glanced around. The platform at King’s Cross train station was crowded with rowdy tourists that particular Saturday morning. Nothing about them seemed magical to Katie. In fact, there was nothing that indicated that a steam train was waiting nearby to bring her to Hogwarts. Unwillingly, her nose curled up, and bottom lip stuck out in frustration she couldn’t quite explain.</p>
<p>Katie had grown up around magic since both her parents and both her godparents were wizards and witches. She’d been having <em>accidents</em> since she was old enough to wave about her arms. She’d learn to lie and keep secret from her schoolmates for years. Perhaps that was why she was a little disappointed. Her first official day as a proper witch was still a bit too secretive, too, well, Muggle.</p>
<p>“No, but we’re almost there. You see that brick pillar over there? Were that guard stands?” Claire Bell pointed at the divide between platforms nine and ten. She chuckled when Katie warily muttered ‘yes’. “Well, believe it or not, to reach Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, you need to walk straight into it, without stopping.”</p>
<p>Katie blinked a few times as she tried to process what her mother was saying. “Can’t we just walk around it? Isn’t there a door?”</p>
<p>“No, no doors. You’ll need to walk into it if you want to get on the Hogwarts Express.” Claire remembered her first train ride to Hogwarts, nearly twenty-five years ago. She had almost missed the train that day because her parents couldn’t believe that walking into a wall was the only way to reach that oddly numbered platform.</p>
<p>“It’s true, love. Just take a deep breath and walk straight ahead. Your mum and I’ll follow with the cart,” Edward Bell answered for his wife, still a bit out of breath. He had just finished a double shift and was relieved that he had made it to the station in time.</p>
<p>Encouraged by her parents, Katie took a few hesitant steps towards the brick pillar and then stopped to look back at them in worry. They just nodded and signalled for her to go on.</p>
<p><em> ‘They wouldn’t joke about something like that, would they?’ </em> she wondered as she focussed on the red bricks in front of her.</p>
<p>After deciding that her parents wouldn’t do such a mean thing, she took another few steps forward. Suddenly, a ginger-haired boy rushed by her in a hurry, nearly knocking her over with his cart. Scowling and offended that the boy didn’t even apologise, Katie watched him swerve around and brush closely past several other people on the platform. Her scowl morphed into stunned amazement when the boy and his cart ran straight into the brick wall and then just…disappeared.</p>
<p>
  <em>'It's true!’</em>
</p>
<p>Her heartbeat began beating faster as her eyes grew large in excitement. Katie glanced over her shoulder at her parents, smiling broadly this time. Both nodded in encouragement. Behind her parents, Katie noticed more redheads heading in their direction. Determined to pass through before them, she took a deep breath and prepared herself to run into a seemingly solid object. This was it; her life as a witch at Hogwarts was about to start. After another deep breath, she began running.</p>
<p>Somewhere in the background, Katie could hear her parents calling after her, warning her about something or the other. However, in her excitement and the way her heart pounded in her ears made it impossible to make out the exact words.</p>
<p>The brick wall came closer and closer, and before Katie knew it, she ran straight through it. Deep down, she had expected pain, but that didn’t happen. A tickling veil stretched over and around her, drowning out sound and sight. Just as she started to panic by the growing feeling of being confined, it disappeared, and she was free.</p>
<p>The first thing Katie noticed was the scarlet Hogwarts Express, gleaming in the morning sun. Steam from the chimney covered the platform in a mysterious fog. An excited squeal escaped her. It was real, and she was another step closer to becoming a witch! The euphoria, however, didn’t last long. As her legs hadn’t stopped running yet, her body collided with something, sending her flying to the ground. Again, there wasn’t any pain. Where she should have scraped her knees and hands, she landed softly with a quiet ‘oof’.</p>
<p>
  <em>'Who was groaning?'</em>
</p>
<p>“Clumsy bint, gerroffme!” a voice, muffled by her robes, cried. A boyish voice that skipped a few times, just like her neighbour Gary’s voice often did.</p>
<p>
  <em>'Oh, shit.'</em>
</p>
<p>Mortified, Katie realised that she’d run into a person. A boy person to be more precise, one that smelled like lavender and rain after a hot summer’s day. Katie tried to get up again. Unfortunately, she tumbled down over again when she stepped on the hem of her robes. Why was there so much fabric involved?</p>
<p>Too busy to get upright, Katie didn’t notice how she was writhing against the boy she was lying on and how uncomfortable it made him. Finally, strong hands roughly pushed her off. She landed backwards on her bum. Eyes wide as saucers and face tomato-red in embarrassment, Katie looked up, a thousand apologies already on her lips.</p>
<p>The boy was older, older than she was anyway. He had thick black hair and sun-kissed skin. His eyes were a lighter shade of grey that Katie hadn’t seen before. In the back of mind, something about the old magical families and physical traits her father had once told her popped up. It was all very fascinating. Too lost in her thoughts, Katie was a bit slow to notice that the boy’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and discomfort because she openly kept staring at him.</p>
<p>“I’m really, really sorry,” Katie said apologetically when she finally caught up. The boy was probably waiting for an explanation. Before she could finish, however, someone pulled her up by her arm.</p>
<p>“Katie, are you all right?” her mother asked in worry, looking her over. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you, darling? Say something.”</p>
<p>“I’m all right, Mum. I ran into him,” Katie mumbled. Her cheeks reddened even more as she pointed at the boy. “He broke my fall.”</p>
<p>Meanwhile, her father checked the boy over. To Katie’s surprise, the boy was almost as tall as her father. It was another first since she hadn’t met someone so close to her age who could look her father directly in the eye before.</p>
<p>“You’re Aurelius Flint’s son, aren’t you?” Edward suddenly asked in a tone he only used when he was cross about something.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” the boy answered with a broad smile, his chest puffed out proudly. He hadn’t caught the edge to Edward Bell’s voice. “He’s right over there. Do you know him?”</p>
<p>Katie couldn’t help but smile back. Even the weird look the boy gave her when he noticed couldn’t make her stop.</p>
<p>Edward snorted in derision and crossed his arms. “I know him all right. You better get going, son. We do not need your lot here.”</p>
<p>The smile fell from the boy’s face, and his eyes narrowed. For a second, he looked as if he wanted to tell Edward off. But in the end, he clearly thought better of it, and after a curt nod he marched away.</p>
<p>Katie watched the interaction in growing confusion. What was going on here? “Dad, no, why did you send him away for? I didn’t get to apologise for running into him! I still need to thank him for catching me!”</p>
<p>Claire put her hand on Katie’s shoulder. She slightly shook her head, silently telling her daughter not to argue.</p>
<p>“He’ll understand, I’m sure. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” was Edward’s clipped reply. His hawk-like gaze was fixed at the boy’s retreating back, almost as if he wanted to make sure that he was as far as possible from them.</p>
<p>Katie never was told that day why her father had been so rude to that fascinating boy. Instead, they had dismissed the whole matter with a <em> ‘We’ll tell you when you’re older ‘</em>. It wouldn’t be until Katie’s final year at Hogwarts they would deem her ‘old enough’ to know, and by then, it would be too late.</p>
<p>For now, however, Katie kept eyeing the boy from afar whilst her parents chatted with old friends about old people things. A funny feeling in her belly flared up each time she laid eyes on the boy and daydreamt about running into him again on the train so she could apologise properly.</p>
<p>Katie couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts, to get away from her father who had managed to ruin a friendship before it had even started. With a bit of luck, she'd run into the ‘Flint boy’ on the train or at Hogwarts, and apologise properly to him.</p>
<p>She was sure that she’d get her chance to make things right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. St Mungo's</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter, as well as the next one, are heavy on the info dump. I've tried to edit it out as much as possible, but alas.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Then<br/>June 1992</b>
</p>
<p>The Gryffindor common room was like a beehive tonight. It was the last night together before Hogwarts let out for the summer. Groups of friends sat huddled together, chatting about their summer plans and expectations. While some students made plans to meet up, others were just glad to get away from the familiar faces for two months. Spending day and night together for a better part of the year tended to take a toll on friendships and time apart smoothed away any possible troubles.</p>
<p>Humming a melody that had been stuck in her head whole day, Katie Bell was one of the last students to return to the Gryffindor Tower that night. Although her second year at Hogwarts had been a blast, she was looking forward to going home. She could with a break from worrying about homework, Quidditch, or angering Snape or Oliver too much.</p>
<p>But not only that, she looked forward to visiting her new Hufflepuff friend, Leanne, who -as Katie had learnt- lived in the same London borough as she did. She hoped that she could sway her parents into allowing her to stay with Leanne a few days. It would be a nice break from her usual routine: two weeks in France with her parents, a week at her grandparents’ house, and then the rest of the summer with her godmother while her parents were at work.</p>
<p>However, discussing her summer vacation with Leanne was not the only reason for Katie’s tardiness. The truth was that she had spent a better part of the evening eyeing the Slytherin table, and Marcus Flint in specific, and hadn’t wanted to leave before him.</p>
<p>Ever since their unfortunate run-in last year, Katie had been strangely drawn to the boy. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it exactly was, but something about him intrigued her. Unfortunately, none of her friends could help her figure out what about Flint fascinated her so much. After her sorting last year, her fellow Gryffindors had informed her not to socialise too much with Slytherins or pay them too much attention. Ridiculous, in Katie’s opinion. Nevertheless, she wasn’t brave enough to defy general sentiment, not over such a silly thing as a boy anyway.</p>
<p>Besides, it wasn’t as if they were friendly or anything. Katie doubted whether he even knew who she was, and she sure wasn’t going to remind him. The embarrassment alone if he’d go around announcing how she had run him off his feet and had refused to get off would surely kill her.</p>
<p>So, Katie settled for watching Flint from afar. In the Great Hall, library, in the corridors between classes, somehow her eyes always managed to find him. Even when she didn’t know that she was looking for him. Katie had also attended all the Slytherin matches last year. She risked her Housemates’ wrath when she’d been too favourable towards Slytherin instead of cheering for Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.</p>
<p>It was a pity really that her fellow Gryffindors couldn’t see past the rivalry. Flint was, in her humble opinion, the most skilled of the bunch and seeing him in action was the highlight of the Quidditch weekends for her. Even his propensity to cheat couldn’t change her mind. The number of fouls he got away with was impressive in itself. In fact, seeing him play Quidditch, rough and unapologetic, had motived Katie to try out for her House team this year.</p>
<p>Playing against him in her first match ever had exhilarating. Her small size hadn’t stopped him, and he had been as rough and intimidating towards her as he had been to other, more seasoned players. And while others would have given up, it had motivated her to give her all.</p>
<p>Maybe he’d notice her next year, and get her name right too when cursing her out.</p>
<p>“If only,” mumbled Katie as she made her through the room.</p>
<p>Someone called out to her from the other side of the room. Alicia and Angelina waved and signalled for her to join them. Although she was tired, Katie couldn’t bring herself to decline. It was their last night together, after all.</p>
<p>“What are you two giggling about?” Katie asked as she flopped down in one of the armchairs.</p>
<p>“Boys,” Alicia whispered conspiratorially, her cheeks red. Angelina nodded in agreement, giggling behind her hand.</p>
<p>“Oh? What about them?” Katie’s heart fluttered in her chest. It could’ve been excitement or fear of letting something slip about Flint.</p>
<p>“Alicia says that Cedric Diggory is cute.” Angelina giggled again, eyes sparkling. “What do you think?”</p>
<p>“He’s all right. A bit skinny if you ask me,” Katie answered, shrugging in disinterest. Cedric was handsome and kind and all, but he was just such a <em>boyish</em> boy, and, not fascinating at all. Unlike someone else that Katie couldn’t mention aloud.</p>
<p>“Just all right? Skinny?” Alicia exclaimed, her expression one of disbelief. She wanted to say more, but Angelina beat her to it.</p>
<p>“See, I’ve told you so. Admit it; the most handsome boy in school is Oliver,” she trailed off, sighing the name in the end. Her eyes wandered to the other side of the room where Oliver Wood was in deep conversation with the Weasley twins, his arms spread wide as he explained something. Angelina’s face fell a little as she sighed softly. “As long as he doesn’t talk about Quidditch, I mean.”</p>
<p>Both Katie and Alicia nodded in agreement about that last part. Oliver was a good captain, but too pushy to put it nicely. Practice with him was always draining, and at times downright terrible. Katie was sure that Oliver was a few ingredients short of a potion when it came to Quidditch. To her, the sport was just a fun pastime, but she knew better than to voice that aloud in his presence. He would surely toss her off the team if he were to find out. Lucky for her, he had Harry to focus his energy on this year.</p>
<p>Katie watched Oliver, trying to see what appealed to Angie. She just couldn’t see it. She couldn’t see the appeal of Cedric Diggory either. Even with his flaws, neither boy could hold a candle to Flint. Then again, she might be a bit biased.</p>
<p>“So, what about you?” Alicia asked, pulling Katie from her reveries.</p>
<p>“What about me?”</p>
<p>“Who do you think is good looking?”</p>
<p>Katie pretended to study the scabs on her knuckles while she thought hard about the right answer to give. Obviously, naming Flint was out of the question seeing how repulsed her friends were by everything Slytherin. And she really wasn’t in the mood to be lectured again about her odd tastes. But still, it was tragic that the girls weren’t able to see what Katie saw each time she looked at him; the beautiful colour of his eyes and how contagious his laughter was.</p>
<p>So, as usual, instead of the truth, Katie gave the acceptable answer. “Oliver, I think.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Now<br/>June 1999</b>
</p>
<p>The peaceful silence that shrouded the children’s care ward stood in stark contrast to the other departments at St Mungo’s. Also known as the Babbity Ward, it was a place where deathly sick children for whom Healers could not find a cure right away were treated. Thankfully, these days there weren’t any patients aside from the little boy and his mother in Room One.</p>
<p>There weren’t any cries, giggles, or gurgles noticeable in the room, only the soft humming the countless monitoring charms that kept a close watch on the small child.</p>
<p>The boy, just over four-months-old, had been born sickly. None of the prenatal scans or check-ups his Muggleborn mother had undergone at Muggle hospitals had shown anything wrong. The pregnancy had been a prosperous one and had resulted in the birth of a baby boy. He was born full-term, two weeks late even, weighing nearly nine pounds and with a great set of lungs.</p>
<p>Then, mere minutes after his birth, everything had gone pear-shaped. He’d stopped breathing, turned blue and limp. It had taken the doctors several minutes to revive him and save his life. The following first two weeks of his young life, he had spent in a Muggle hospital and had undergone daily prodding and poking. The doctors hadn’t found anything wrong with him and ordered more tests.</p>
<p>Fed up by the incapabilities of Muggle medicine, the mother had asked for her son to be transferred to St Mungo’s in hopes that they could help.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the Healers at St. Mungo’s were as mystified as their Muggle counterparts. The only certainty the Healers had was that the baby indeed suffered from a magical ailment. The many diagnostic spells had proven that but sadly, nothing more. If it hadn’t been for the magically induced stasis, the little boy would have been dead already. His condition became an obsession for his carers, and they refused to give up on him, even when every failed attempt drove them up the walls with frustration.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until one of the younger Healers had quite shyly stood up during the weekly department meeting and stuttered that he figured their patient’s mysterious condition.</p>
<p>The young Healer, Charles Thorpe, was a few months short from becoming a full-fledged Healer and still had the drive, and the eagerness, to pour day in day out over scrolls and tomes for answers to difficult questions. Not only had he focused on what possibly could be wrong with the boy, but he had also turned his attention to the mother, a second-generation Muggleborn. She had been at Hogwarts during the Final Battle. She had suffered injuries that had confined her to the infirmary for several weeks after the battle.</p>
<p>Delving further into her past, the young Healer had also learnt that this had not been the first time the woman, Katie Bell, had been on the receiving end of hexes and curses. She had spent several months in the Spell Damage Ward in her last year of school. These events, her injuries, and the unfortunate deaths of her parents shortly after sitting for her NEWTs been well documented and easily accessible.</p>
<p>What wasn’t documented, or public knowledge, however, that Ms Bell had fallen off the grid shortly after their funeral. She’d been officially declared missing, assumed dead, and unofficially thought to be fallen victim to the same Death Eater that had killed her parents.</p>
<p>Healer Thorpe wasn’t brave enough to ask about the time between the funerals and her reappearance at the Battle of Hogwarts. With the war wounds still so fresh for many people, he didn’t have the heart to stir that pot if it wasn’t necessary. Yet. Nevertheless, the information he had available told a tale of a young woman waking up from a coma several days after the war, disoriented and overly concerned about something, or someone. None of the records mentioned what or who this could be, the notes on that were missing.</p>
<p>Thinking about what probably had happened to the young woman during the time she’d been missing made Healer Thorpe sick to his stomach. The last note in her chart was a short scribble that Ms Bell had discharged herself one night.</p>
<p>Taking into consideration the woman’s history and his own suspicions and assumptions surrounding her disappearance during wartime, Thorpe had started studying books on Pureblood rituals. A Pureblood himself, he was all too aware of the olden ways and how some families still imposed them on their offspring, sometimes unknowingly. The ancient familial blood curse, Finem Illegitimum, was the most ruthless one. It was an archaic practice that still affected a few of the Pureblood families.</p>
<p>Contrary what most of the modern witches and wizards thought, the curse had nothing to do blood purity. Theoretically, the sole purpose was to avoid any children born out of wedlock and the division of property and wealth that came with such scandals. In practice, this meant that a bastard child would be stillborn or die within minutes after birth. The elaborate and complicated bonding rituals of some of the older Pureblood families weren’t only for decorum, they also served the purpose of disabling such curses.</p>
<p>The more he studied the matter, the more Healer Thorpe had become convinced that this was the cause of his young patient’s frail health. The father had to be a Pureblood from an old wizarding family. The reason the boy was still alive today, albeit barely, must have been the Muggle way of reviving. It most probably had tricked the curse, delayed its full effects for an unknown amount of time. If little boy Bell had been born at St Mungo’s, he wouldn’t have made it this far.</p>
<p>As expected, Thorpe had been met with scepticism from his older colleagues. They had found the theory too far-fetched, as most if not all active Finem Illegitimum curses in Britain were well-documented and monitored. But Thorpe had stood his ground and had done his utmost to convince the senior Healers to call in a specialist in familial curses to at least prove him wrong.</p>
<p>They had tried everything else, he had argued, what harm could it do to investigate it a little further? Even if the Finem Illegitimum were to be confirmed, they there wasn’t much they could do about it. A potion or charm could not fix this. The possible cure could vary from family to family, and more importantly, the child had drawn his first breath, which was the final deadline to counter for most of these curses. All they could do was to offer the mother peace of mind.</p>
<p>That had been a week ago, and this morning the specialised Curse Breaker had finally sent in her report, confirming Thorpe’s suspicions. A familial curse was slowly killing the baby. It would be a miracle if his patient lived long enough to see his first birthday with the current treatment.</p>
<p>Thorpe stood in the doorway to Room One, the knots in his stomach tightening with each passing second. Ms Bell was sitting beside her son’s cot, humming an unfamiliar lullaby as she stroked her son’s head. Instead of feeling the joy of his first correct diagnosis without supervision, he felt the sadness of delivering bad news. How was he supposed to tell her that her son would most probably die foreseeable future and the only chance to save him was to name his father? If his suspicions about what had happened to her were correct, that could be a problem.</p>
<p>Thorpe hated this part of his work and not for the first time, he wondered if he chose the right profession. Would this ever get any easier? A heavy hand on his shoulder broke his reveries. His mentor, Healer Wenlock, came to stand next to him.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?” the older man asked, his voice and face void of any emotions. It was his task to guide and teach his charges and, unfortunately, to deliver bad news was a part of the learning process. He knew that it would get easier over time. For their mental health, young Healers needed to learn how to detach themselves from these kinds of heart-breaking situations.</p>
<p>“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Thorpe replied with a small voice. <em>'No! I don’t want to do this. Can I quit? I wanna quit!’ </em> he wanted to scream, but instead, he said, “Let’s get this over with.”</p>
<p>“Good afternoon, Miss Bell,” Healer Wenlock started kindly, “How are you today?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Katie stared out the window, watching the enchanted view of blue skies and green fields. It was supposed to bring peace and tranquillity. It wasn’t working on her, though. The more the Healers kept on talking and providing her with <em>'options’ </em> that didn’t sound like options at all, the more her frustrations grew. The way the men kept tiptoeing around her son’s paternity made her want to scream and hex them into a billion pieces. She wasn’t stupid; she could read between the lines and wanted to tell them off for insinuating such a thing.</p>
<p>But, deep down, Katie couldn’t blame them. After all, she had made a point of not talking about her private life, even before the war. Her reasons for not telling had nothing to do with shame or trauma or whatever the Healers didn’t dare to say aloud. It couldn’t have been further from the truth than that.</p>
<p>Resting her head against the cool windowpane, Katie closed her eyes and thought back at the last time she had seen Marcus, just hours after promising him that she wouldn’t join the battle. He had risked his own life to save hers that day, and unknowingly their son’s as well.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Sleep now, Bell. I’ll be here when you wake up.” </em>
</p>
<p>He had lied.</p>
<p>By the time she’d regained consciousness, only her godparents and Angelina had been there. No one had talked about him, ignored her questions, and when they didn’t, they told her to forget about Marcus. So in return, Katie had stopped talking to them.</p>
<p>After leaving the infirmary, Katie had tried to find Marcus, gain information on his well-being or even his death so she could mourn. But there was nothing. He wasn’t in Azkaban, nor was he confirmed dead. The Ministry had sealed off his family home. His father had died several days before the battle whilst his mother’s whereabouts were unknown, probably somewhere abroad with relatives.</p>
<p>Rubbing her face, Katie wondered for the umpteenth time how their lives would have turned out if she had stayed home like she had promised. If she had, Marcus wouldn’t have gone out to find her, to save her life. They would have been a happy family today.</p>
<p>Why oh why hadn’t she just ignored the messages on her DA coin that day?</p>
<p>The Healers were still droning about her son’s option that all ended with his premature death. Well, that wouldn’t do. She had one last card to play, and time had come to use it. With a re-found determination, Katie turned around to gather her meagre belongings and kissed her son tenderly on his forehead.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, love,” whispered Katie. After a final kiss, she straightened her back and walked away.</p>
<p>“Miss Bell, where are you going? We need to discuss this!” the Healers called after her, baffled that someone would leave in the middle of a discussion.</p>
<p>Turning around, Katie answered as calmly as possible, “There is nothing to talk about. I’m going to find his father, and we’re going to lift this curse, one way or another.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Going Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Then<br/>October 1992</b>
</p><p>Katie felt sore all over that Monday morning. Her hip throbbed, her head felt as if it was going to burst, and she was fairly certain that she had at least bruised a rib, maybe two. The first match of the season, against Slytherin, had undoubtedly been brutal. A stray Bludger had hit her between the shoulders and knocked her off her broom. It was Madame Hooch’s quick thinking that had broken the worst of her fall. The wisest would have been to let Madame Pomfrey check her right then and there. But being stubborn and too proud to give up, she had swallowed her pain and had hopped on her broom to join the match without a second thought.</p><p>Maybe she’d been too eager.</p><p>“Blech,” muttered Katie at her reflection in the mirror and wished she had time for a long hot soak. Unfortunately, as late as she already was, taking a long bath would have to wait until the evening. Deciding that brushing could wait another day as well, Katie quickly put her hair in a messy ponytail. It was all the effort she could muster to freshen up. She couldn’t do more even if she wanted to anyway. Every movement was just too painful. Different parts of her body were all shades of black and blue and utterly stiff. Cursing under her breath, Katie left the bathroom without a last glance in the mirror. If she looked like how she felt, she didn’t need to see it.</p><p>Angie and Alicia were already waiting for her in the Common Room. The girls were still gloating over their win on Slytherin, replaying the match minute by minute. If her friends noticed Katie’s slight limp or her grimace when she picked up her school bag, they didn’t comment on it. Instead, they sucked her into their conversation and briefly made her forget her aches and pains. Until she took her seat at the Gryffindor table that was, changing her position from standing up to sitting down was excruciating at best.</p><p>Trying to get her mind off her misery, Katie decided to focus on the chatter around her. It didn’t take long for her attention to wander to the Slytherin table and their Quidditch captain in specific. Flint looked bored as he stabbed his toast into crumbles with his fork. As usual, he didn’t look her way, he never did, not even once.</p><p>At the beginning of the year, Katie had decided to put an end to this little obsession of hers. He wasn’t the dreamy-looking prince charming from her fantasies but a rude arsehole that managed to utter the most disgusting things she’d ever heard. Then there was the fact that he was downright mean, absolutely dangerous, and a dirty cheat on the pitch. She knew this. Merlin, everyone and their uncle knew this. So, why couldn’t she switch off that fluttering feeling in belly each time she laid eyes on him?</p><p>Too lost in her thought, Katie realised too late that the object of her affection had stopped stabbing his food and had turned his attention to something else. No, correction, to someone else. She quickly glanced around to see what had caught his attention. A deep frown creased her forehead when she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.</p><p>Or could she?</p><p>No, surely he wasn’t.</p><p>Feeling incredibly warm suddenly, Katie blinked a few times. She discretely pinched the skin on her hand to make sure that she didn’t imagine things.</p><p>No, she wasn’t.</p><p>Marcus Flint was staring back at her.</p><p>She was equally embarrassed for getting caught staring as thrilled that Flint had finally noticed her. All-consuming heat from her cheeks rapidly spread to the rest of her body to the point she felt as if she was going to combust. Katie decided that now would be the perfect time to visit Madame Pomfrey. Hopefully, the matron would have something for her burning cheeks because she didn’t think it was going to pass by itself.</p><p>[][]</p><p>Marcus sat at the breakfast table, mulling over the letter he had received last night from his father. Not that he had read it. Nearly three months after their explosive fight that summer, Marcus was still too angry to listen to reason. He wished that he had never asked what the greyish, shapeless tattoo on his father’s arm stood for used to be.</p><p>His father, Aurelius, had always been honest to a fault about his past. He’d been open about the things he had done in his youth, and now regretted, and how the Flint name and money had kept him out of real trouble most of the time. Until it hadn’t, and he had spent a few years in Azkaban because of his foolishness. Until last summer, however, Marcus had never realised <em>what</em> this foolishness had entailed. Worst of all, how much his father had downplayed his role in the war.</p><p>His father had been a Death Eater. Wizards and muggles had died because of him. It was just too much to handle. Marcus still couldn’t wrap his head around it.</p><p>Although traditional to the point of being rather restrictive at times, his parents did not care for the Pureblood ideology that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named spewed back then. Or so Marcus had thought all these years. He would never openly admit to it while he was still in Slytherin, Marcus just couldn’t see the importance of pure blood. There were just too many Muggleborn schoolmates with far stronger magic than some of the Purebloods. Who was he to say that they didn’t belong in their world? As long as they left him alone, he couldn’t care less about Muggles or Muggleborns. His mum <em>and</em> dad had taught him that.</p><p>A sharp poke to his side broke pulled Marcus from his reveries. Higgs was laughing with Pucey about something. Where Marcus would have been eager to learn what the joke was, his friends’ overly cheery attitudes this morning rubbed him the wrong way.</p><p>“What are you two chits giggling about?”</p><p>“She’s staring again,” Higgs answered as if that explained anything.</p><p>“Do you think her Housemates know about their little stray?” asked Pucey, laughing.</p><p>They were making even less sense than usual. “What stray? Who are you’re talking about?” Marcus immediately regretted taking the bait.</p><p>“Have you ever heard the story of the ickle Gryffindor fancying the big ugly Slytherin?” said Pucey, and made kissing sounds as he batted his lashes.</p><p>Nose curled up in disgust as his friend’s antics, Marcus turned his attention to his plate and decided that he was hungry. Besides, anything concerning those self-righteous Gryffs was of no interest to him unless Quidditch was involved. Trying to ignore his friends and the underhand jibe he was sure was aimed at him, he reached for eggs and a few strips of bacon. Unfortunately, Higgs managed to drag him back in before he could enjoy his food.</p><p>“Aren’t you going to ask who she’s been staring at for the past ten minutes?”</p><p>“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re on about,” Marcus grunted and quickly shoved a sausage into his mouth.</p><p>“Don’t be like that.” Pucey clasped his shoulder. “C’mon mate, play along. We can keep it for much longer than you can ignore us. D’you wanna give the Higgs the pleasure of driving you bonkers? You know he’ll do it.”</p><p>Thinking it over for a minute, Marcus decided the fastest way to get back to his brooding was indeed by indulging his so-called friends. “Fine, who are you talking about?” he asked with a sigh of defeat.</p><p>“That Bell girl,” Pucey answered, cocking his head towards the Gryffindor table. “Ickle little thing with the long brown hair. Wood’s new pet?”</p><p>Seeing the blank look on Marcus’ face, Higgs added in frustration, “Oh, come on! Their Chaser, the one Montague knocked off her broom Saturday?”</p><p>Still not entirely sure who they were talking about, Marcus nodded slowly. He vaguely remembered a tiny little thing that shouldn’t have been allowed on the pitch yet but couldn’t immediately put a face to it.</p><p>“The one with that big mouth on her,” said Higgs. “She taught me a thing or two.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, I remember now. What about her?” asked Marcus feigning recognition. He took a bite of his toast as he turned his gaze to the stormy ceiling. It matched his mood perfectly.</p><p>“Just look at the Gryff table, mate. You’ll see what we mean,” Pucey answered, exasperated by his friend’s lack of enthusiasm.</p><p>To get the whole thing over with, Marcus did as told. Bell was enough to find. She was the dark-haired puppet sitting next to Wood. The witless wonder himself was busy staring daggers at the Slytherin table in a demented sort of scare tactic. The girl, on the other hand, wore an expression of sheer curiosity. That sort of thing always tended to stick out like a sore thumb. There was a familiarity about her too, Marcus thought, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.</p><p>But was it really just curiosity that he was seeing on her face?</p><p>Marcus squinted and slightly leant forward to make sure. He quickly glanced back at Pucey and Higgs in askance. Their grins and nods confirmed his unspoken question. Marcus turned to the Gryffindor table again. Why was she staring at him like that for? No one had ever ogled him like that; he was usually the one doing that.</p><p>Bell finally noticed him watching her. Her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t look away immediately. He was sure that she even batted her lashes at him at one point. Why would she do that? Maybe she hit her head yesterday. Why wasn’t Wood getting her checked out by Pomfrey? When Bell limped out of the Great Hall a little while later, an utterly confused Marcus turned to his friends.</p><p>“What was that all about?”</p><p>Higgs and Pucey just rolled their eyes and guffawed at their friend’s question. He couldn’t be that thick, could he?</p><p>[][]</p><p>
  <b>Now<br/>June 1999</b>
</p><p>Woodlands and green fields as far as the eyes reached surrounded the small cottage in the countryside. A flourishing garden filled with colourful flowers surrounded the well-kept cottage with its thatched roof. Only the tweeting of birds and buzzing bees disturbed the peaceful calm. A time long ago, when war had been an archaic concept from history books, Katie had spent most of her time here.</p><p>It was the first place she had thought about after leaving St Mungo’s, the home of Mary and John Dawlish. Her godparents.</p><p>Katie opened the wicket and walked down the pebble path to the front door. Almost immediately, a woman stepped out the door, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. She was dressed in mismatched colourful clothes and wore her long blonde hair in a plait. It took Mary Dawlish a few seconds, but as soon she recognised Katie, a broad smile lit up her face, and she spread out her arms to welcome her.</p><p>The emotions Katie had suppressed the past year bubbled to the surface as she ran up to her second mother and embraced her tightly, inhaling her achingly familiar scent. It brought back so many memories of happy times. She needed this. Even if it were for a minute, she needed to feel a mother’s embrace and soothing words. For the first time in a long time, she allowed her tears to flow freely. Tears of joy, grieve and sadness.</p><p>“I’ve missed you so,” she warbled between sobs.</p><p>“S’okay, darling, let it out,” Mary cooed as she held her goddaughter. Her own tears would follow later. For now, she had to console Katie, hold her tight and most of all, she had to convince herself that she was truly here. “I’ve missed you too, my girl,” she whispered before she let go. “Come on in. I’ll make us some tea.”</p><p>Nodding and wiping the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve, Katie followed her godmother to the backyard. The green lawn, surrounded by flowerbeds and rose bushes, stretched to the forest edge. Nothing had changed, but at the same time, she had changed so much. Mary urged her to take a seat while she prepared the tea.</p><p>“Is Uncle John here?” Katie asked, unsure if she wanted to see him yet.</p><p>“No, he’ll kick himself for missing this. He’s on a mission in Austria right now. He’ll be back tomorrow. I should owl him, maybe-”</p><p>“No!” Katie realised how that must have sounded. She forced a small smile and quickly added, “No, s’alright, I’ll see him soon.”</p><p>Although it was essential to speak to him, Katie was grateful for another day to get her emotions in check. It was irrational and misplaced even, but she needed someone to blame, and her godfather was the perfect person for that.</p><p>“Tomorrow? You’re sticking around then?” asked Mary hesitantly. Burnt before, she was afraid that Katie was going to disappear again after her visit. A curt confirming nod settled her worry for now, and she hurried inside to prepare tea. “Sit down, I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder and decided to owl John regardless.</p><p>Left alone in the garden, Katie studied her surroundings, reminiscing her carefree youth. Back when life had been simple, and the most significant challenge in her life had been to master the Reverse Pass. All that seemed foreign now, like a fading dream.</p><p>Sighing, she flopped down in one of the chairs under the pergola and waited for Mary to return. Her earlier determination was dwindling, and utter exhaustion settled into the void. Katie had always prided herself for her strength and pugnacity. She had never been a quitter, but with everything that had happened, she had reached her limits.</p><p>Thankfully, Mary returned with the tea before Katie spiralled into a bout of self-pity. So focussed on her godmother to keep herself from falling apart, she didn’t see the owl fly away.</p><p>“We’ve missed you so much,” Mary started after she’d settled beside Katie and poured the tea. “We were so worried after you left like that. John tried to locate you for ages.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve missed you too.” Katie had missed them terribly, but the resentment she had felt, and still felt towards John had kept her from coming back. It was a childish resentment, she was well aware of that, but admitting to it aloud and letting it go was still a bridge too far. “I needed to get away after… everything.”</p><p>Mary nodded; it had been trying times for them all. They had promised to take care of her and keep her from harm the day she was born. Obviously, they had failed her. Then, right when they thought that they’d found her after those horrible men had taken her from them, she had vanished again. Mary couldn’t imagine what Katie must have suffered at the hands of those arseholes. They had left with her poor little girl a permanent reminder of that torturous time to boot.</p><p>“Where did you go?”</p><p>Katie frowned, how was she going to answer that? The little cottage Marcus had built for them was Unplottable, and only a handful of people knew where it was, which she liked to keep that way. It had helped to keep her safe during most of the war and after. Telling someone where their home was felt like a betrayal. She’d already betrayed him by leaving to fight after promising that she wouldn’t. There was no need to add more guilt to that.</p><p>“I was up north, in Edinburgh,” she lied smoothly, fingering the charmed bracelet on her wrist. It wasn’t a complete lie; she had been there quite often. First, for her prenatal check-ups, then a few days before her due date, she had rented a cheap hotel room near the hospital. She hadn’t wanted to take any chances with Apparating while in labour.</p><p>“Oh? But John said he couldn’t locate you. We thought you’d left the country…” Mary trailed off, frowning. They had done several tracing spells together, and all had come out negative. Even the official Ministry Tracers hadn’t been able to find her. Seeing Katie’s guarded expression, she decided to question her about it later.</p><p>“What did you do? How did you get by?”</p><p>“I had some money saved up and,’ Katie swallowed hard and then said softly, ‘and the money I got for the flat.”</p><p>She conveniently omitted the fact that she had barely touched her parents’ money. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to use it. It was Marcus’s money that had kept her fed and warm the past year. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t need a lot.</p><p>Mary nodded without commenting. She knew the money Claire and Edward had left their daughter wasn’t a large sum. That was probably the reason Katie had returned; she’d run out. It didn’t matter to her, though. She was glad to have her back, even if it was because of money.</p><p>“Why did you leave? Why didn’t you contact us? An owl or call saying you were all right would have eased our minds. We’ve been so worried about you”</p><p>Katie didn’t answer immediately, but stood up and walked over to the rose bushes, inhaling the scent of her carefree youth. The buzzing of the bees was almost hypnotic. “Do you remember the summer before my fifth year? When told you that I was in love?” she asked instead of answering.</p><p>“Yes, you were convinced that you had met the man of your dreams,” Mary said with a laugh, “He was an older boy, wasn’t he? Sweet Circe, it was adorable.”</p><p>Mary smiled at the memory. If she closed her eyes, she’d see the sweet young girl Katie had been back then and how she’d blushed and stuttered about some boy from school that made her feel strange. The dreamy look she had on her face that day was still one of Mary’s fondest memories of her goddaughter. Oh, to be young again.</p><p>“You laughed at me and told me I was too young to know what love was,” Katie continued, trying to and failing at keeping her annoyance from her voice. “I got so angry with you for that, remember? You always had been the one to listen to me and treat me like an adult. I used to think that I could tell you anything. Then you had to go and tell my parents and Uncle John after I asked you not say anything. I can still hear the four of you laughing about it.”</p><p>“Oh come on, it was a little funny. You never talked about boys before and suddenly there you were planning your wedding,” Mary said with a chuckle. “But, I don’t understand. What has this to do-”</p><p>“You promised you wouldn’t tell Mum and Dad and still, you told them the same evening,” Katie interrupted her. She felt the tears of anger prickle in her eyes as she paused a moment to collect her thoughts. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. “Dad preached for hours after we got home that night.”</p><p>“I didn’t know but… What is this all about, love?” asked Mary carefully. “Katie?”</p><p>Katie wasn’t entirely sure why she was trying to say as she turned to face Mary again. After a moment of loaded silence, she decided it would be best to cut to the chase. “After the funeral… I wasn’t taken against my will. I left with… with them because I wanted to.”</p><p>“What? No, of course not,” Mary said firmly. There had been testimonies and eyewitnesses. “That friend of yours, uhm, Angelina saw the whole thing happen. She said-”</p><p>“I can imagine what she told you.” Katie wondered how much her former friend had exaggerated. Then again, she couldn’t blame Angie, could she? “Unfortunately, she dropped by when I was about to leave. I couldn’t shake her off in time.”</p><p>“But she was in a full-body bind when John found them; they had been attacked. The Dark Mark was seen over the flat, for heaven’s sake!” Mary exclaimed in disbelief. Those bastards must have planted false memories in the poor girl’s head.</p><p>“No, no, they didn’t attack. Not really…” A sudden worry overtook Katie. Would they hold this lie against Marcus once she found him? Would they blame him for something she had a part in as well?</p><p>“I put them in a body bind because they wouldn’t stop for a minute to listen to me. Angelina kept on shouting and tried to hex him when he came for me. As for the Morsmordre,’ Katie knew she was going kill a particular person for that, ‘one of his friends has a, ah, strange sense of humour.”</p><p>“Do you even hear what you are saying? Humour? Only Death Eaters can conjure that!” Mary wasn’t sure what to think. Surely, Katie was pulling her leg. She had to be. Then the realisation set in. “Oh, Merlin! He was one of them, wasn’t he? They killed your parents, and you just go and run off with one?”</p><p>Katie tried not to think about her parents. She was well aware of who was responsible for their deaths, for lots of deaths. She did not need another reminder of that. “He wasn’t one when we got together. He didn’t have much choice in the matter.” It did sound like a weak excuse, she had to admit.</p><p>“Oh, love, that doesn’t make it any better.” Mary threw her hands up in the air. She couldn’t believe that Katie was making excuses for a Death Eater. “That doesn’t excuse him at all! He could have walked away if he’d wanted to. The Ministry could have helped him. Your dad, even John, could have helped him if you had asked us. I can’t believe you kept this from us. How could you?”</p><p>Katie rubbed her face regret; this wasn’t going as she’d planned. Maybe, she should have waited a few days to prepare what she wanted to say. Or just bit her tongue. She just needed help. Time was ticking away for Lucas and if she didn’t find his father soon, he would die. Every minute spent arguing with her godmother was another minute wasted. Once her baby was safe, she would happily sit and discuss every unpleasant detail, but now was not the time.</p><p>“Please, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I-I need help.”</p><p>“You need help? Why now? Ask your Death Eater lover; I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you again now that they’ve lost. Or is he rotting away in prison somewhere?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Mary regretted them. Katie’s face fell and tears brimmed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” She quickly walked over to Katie and embraced her, as she’d done earlier. “I’ve shouldn’t have said that. Please stay, make me understand.”</p><p>Taking her Katie’s hand, she led her back to the porch. The air was tense between them and Mary wasn’t sure how she could make it better. Losing Katie again wasn’t an option, even if that meant they had to accept a Death Eater in their midst.</p><p><em>'John’s going to have a heart attack,’ </em> she thought. Her husband had spent most of his adult life fighting that specific evil. He had lost friends and colleagues during the First and Second Wizarding War. With great dismay, he had watched Death Eaters take over the Ministry and tear down all that an Auror should have stood for.</p><p>Now, his goddaughter all but confessed to running away with one.</p><p>Equally uncomfortable, Katie studied her hands. The brief joy she had felt upon seeing her godmother had vanished. Maybe, it had been a mistake to have come here. Surely, she didn’t need Uncle John’s help.</p><p>Mary was the first to break the laden silence. “I’m almost sure that you never told me his name. Who’s he?”</p><p>Nibbling on her lip, Katie answered without looking up. Prepared for another round of hurtful words, she softly spoke, “Marcus Flint.”</p><p>If she’d looked up, she would have seen the surprise on her godmother’s face. Mary knew the name Flint, how could she not? The name was synonymous with one of the darkest times she and her friends had gone through. Aurie Flint was a convicted Death Eater, a war criminal who got off too easy for his crimes in exchange for ratting out his old associates. It wasn’t a secret that Aurelius’ son had followed in his footsteps. Merlin, she had processed Aurie’s arrest shortly after Voldemort’s fall herself.</p><p>Needing to know more, Mary continued as if the name hadn’t rattled her. “He has never hurt you, then?”</p><p>Katie shook her head, swallowing down a harsh retort. “Never, he risked his life to keep me safe.”</p><p>“You were pregnant the last time...” Mary had difficulty finishing the sentence. Deep down, she hoped that there wouldn’t be a child to talk about anymore.</p><p>“Yes, I was. He is Marcus’ son,” Katie offered with a watery smile. She rummaged through her bag until she found what she’d been looking for. With a proud look on her face, she presented Mary with a photograph.</p><p>Mary’s frown faded and her lips curled up into a soft smile as she studied the Muggle picture. A tired looking, but broadly smiling Katie was holding a chubby newborn, <em>Lucas</em>, with thick dark hair in her arms.</p><p>“You look so much like your mum. He’s beautiful, darling, like you were.” Suddenly, Mary looked up in worry. She hoped Katie wouldn’t keep her from meeting the little boy. “Are-are we going to meet him? I’m sorry for what I said earlier-”</p><p>“He’s at St Mungo’s,” said Katie impatiently. “That’s why I’m here.”</p><p>It took her nearly a half an hour to explain the situation to Mary. From the fruitless search for Marcus to Lucas’ condition and prognosis. Mary’s heart bled for Katie and her son. Despite her misgiving about his paternity, that little boy deserved a chance at life. It all depended on finding Marcus Flint in time.</p><p>And that was going to a problem. Not that she could tell Katie that just yet, she didn’t want to quench her goddaughter’s hopes.</p><p><em>'Oh John, what have you done?’ </em> Mary thought.</p><p>[][]</p><p>The dark cell located deep down in the long-deserted and forgotten crypts of Azkaban prison was cold and damp. Small streams of seawater trickled through the thick walls. Lost in their own minds, three men lay on thin rotting straw pallets on three sides of the cell. Their feet were shackled, and their hands manacled to the wall with magic restraining iron chains that were just long enough to give them enough leeway to lie down or take a few steps. Their joints and muscles were in a constant state of cramp because of the limitations in their movements.</p><p>Food and water were only available at irregular intervals and just enough to keep them from starving to death. Combined with the damp cold, their health was deteriorating more and more with each passing day. And as it was now, there was no end in sight for their suffering.</p><p>These men weren’t on any official prisoner list, nor was the deserted dungeon on any official blueprints of the prison. Not anymore, anyway. Just two other people knew them to be there; the Auror that had brought them in, and the guard who fed them and Scourgified the cell, both things he often forgot. Not that he felt guilty about that; they were Death Eater scum, after all. He was doing society a favour by making their deaths as prolonged and awful as possible. Their lot didn’t deserve any mercy.</p><p>One of the men turned to his side, his feverish eyes fixed on the cell door. His chest heaved in labour as he gasped for air. He couldn’t stop shivering; the thin, ragged clothes hardly kept him warm. And with each uncontrollable shake, the bounds cut further into his flesh, making the infected cuts bleed again. An average man would have given up a long time ago, would have welcomed death with open arms. Not Marcus Flint, though. He needed to get home. He’d promised Katie that he would, and he planned on honouring that promise.</p><p>Because the alternative was unthinkable.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. An Introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Then<br/>December 1993 </b>
</p>
<p>Marcus strode to the Quidditch pitch with his broom in hand. Christmas break had just begun, and most of the Hogwarts students had gone home earlier that day. Not him, though. The rift between him and his father had only grown over the past year and a half, and the last thing he needed was to spend time with him when he could be doing other things. Like playing Quidditch from sunrise until bedtime without any interference.</p>
<p>The first semester of his seventh year had gone rather smoothly thus far. There wasn't anything new the professors could surprise him with since he had spent most of his summer studying in an attempt to avoid his parents. Most importantly, he held the Slytherin captaincy for last time and he planned to go out with a bang. And the Cup.</p>
<p>Other students left him alone. For some reason, they seemed to fear him more than the previous years. It was amusing at times but mostly frustrating. It had always amazed him that his fellow students expected him to be as brutal outside the pitch as he was on it. Then again, breaking someone's nose outside of Quidditch could do that.</p>
<p>Marcus pulled a face as he thought back at the moment he had punched that annoying Head Boy, Percy Weasley, on the nose. But the orange git had it coming, daring to telling him off for wandering the corridors after curfew. Although the little tap had earned him a month of detention with Snape, Marcus decided that seeing that ponce Weasley cry like a little baby whilst clutching his bleeding nose had been worth the punishment.</p>
<p>Shrugging off his fur-lines cloak, Marcus prepared to kick off into the air. His breath came out in little puffs as he rolled his shoulders and squatted to loosen his muscles. Thankfully, the weather was rather calm and his surroundings eerily quiet after several days of heavy snowfall and hard winds. It was freezing cold, but that was something Marcus didn’t mind. If anything, he liked it that way.</p>
<p>Life couldn’t get any better than this.</p>
<p>Just as he mounted his broom, Marcus noticed that he wasn't only Quidditch-crazed left behind. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that since he had his heart set on having the Quidditch pitch all to himself for the foreseeable future. On an old school broom that fell apart as she flew it, Katie Bell soared through the sky above him. Usually, it would have ticked him off that someone would dare to invade his private time. But to his own surprise, Marcus found that he didn’t mind.</p>
<p>Smiling, he decided to surprise her. Maybe he could talk to her for once. Since he was a better stalker than Bell would ever be, he knew that she wanted to but hadn’t mustered up to courage to do so. What really puzzled Marcus was <em>why</em> a girl like her was interested in a bloke like him.</p>
<p>Only last September, Marcus had finally remembered his very run-in with Bell, years ago. How could he have forgotten that unlucky day? It had taken the bruises on his shins and ribs ages to heal after colliding with her pointy knees and elbows. Still, it hadn't been Bell herself who had triggered that memory. No, the older tall man standing next to her had. Marcus hadn't forgotten how rude the man had been after his daughter had nearly murdered him, and how tense his own father had become when he had complained about it.</p>
<p>Marcus hovered on the spot for a while and just watched Bell, who was throwing Quaffles through the hoops. She hadn't seen him yet, and if she had, she didn't show it. Marcus had to admit that, although she had a thing or two to learn about properly throwing a Quaffle, she was an excellent flyer. And there was something else each time he saw her, something he refused to name.</p>
<p>Marcus decided that he had watched enough. This was his final year after all, and he wanted to have some fun before starting his adult life. If the chit was willing, maybe he could get a snog or two out of her. That was innocent enough, what harm could it do? Pleased with himself and a grin plastered on his face, he flew up to her.</p>
<p>Bell slowed down as soon as she saw him. The joyous look on her face from earlier was gone, replaced by suspicion. He wondered if he made a mistake. Maybe, he misread her. It wouldn't be the first time that he got his head filled with Higgs and Pucey's nonsense.</p>
<p>“What're you doing here?” she asked, hovering a little backwards on her broom.</p>
<p>“Flying,” Marcus answered, shrugging in an attempt to act casual. The way the girl was gripping her broom did nothing to assure him that joining her was a good idea. “Just like you.”</p>
<p>"Shouldn't you be on the train?" Seeing Marcus shake his head, a light blush appeared on her cheeks. "So, you are staying behind as well?"</p>
<p>He nodded, grinning. Call him crazy, but she sounded hopeful. "Yeah. Like you, I reckon?"</p>
<p>For a fleeting second, she looked as if she wanted to say something but decided against it. Her brows furrowed briefly, and she shook her head.</p>
<p>"What? You were about to say something?"</p>
<p>"Nothing." She seemed nervous as she looked around. "You're not going to hex me or anything, are you? I should tell you, McGonagall and Dumbledore know I'm here. Oh, and Snape does too."</p>
<p>"Why would I do that?" Again, Marcus wondered if he'd made the right decision. Why did people always expect the worst of him? "What do those old farts have to do with anything?"</p>
<p>"Ah, it just that... You're Flint." Bell blushed a bright red. "I'm used to you cussing and yelling."</p>
<p>"I can start calling you names and kick you off your broom if you want. My hexes still need some work, though." He couldn't help but laugh. "Would that make you feel better?"</p>
<p>It didn't take long for her to join his laughter. He liked the sound and decided that he wanted to hear her again. He made a mental note to owl his mum later so she'd send him his old joke books. But what was he supposed to do until then?</p>
<p>"So… uhm… You want to race or something?"</p>
<p>She giggled, nervous again. "Race you? I- I don't know..."</p>
<p>He needed to act fast before he lost his chance. "Promise, just a race. How about to the goal and back?"</p>
<p>She nibbled on her lip as her eyes darted between him, the goal, and back again. Finally, she nodded. But, before Marcus let out the breath he was holding, a mischievous grin appeared on her face and she kicked off.</p>
<p>"Oi, Bell, that's not fair!" he called after her as he started the chase</p>
<p>"You're the one to talk!" She waved her hand in the air, dismissing him.</p>
<p>Marcus decided that he liked her.</p>
<p>[][]</p>
<p>"Be careful, Bell! You're going too fast!" Katie could hear Marcus' voice in the distance. Her only reaction was to shake her head at him, her brown hair flying behind her. She was at full speed now and needed to concentrate on what she was about to do.</p>
<p>They had practised for days on this, first just a foot above the ground and now she was ready to do it high up in the sky. She felt confident about it; she could do this. One way or another, she was going to try to stand on her broom. He had been surprisingly patient while teaching her, showing her numerous times how to do it and what not to do, and she didn't want to disappoint.</p>
<p>These past three weeks they had spent most of their days flying, racing each other, and showing off their Quidditch skills. She managed to get to know Marcus Flint a bit better and decided that she'd been right all along about him. He was kind in his own way and funny when he wasn't spewing rude jokes, and even those made her laugh more than she'd like to admit.</p>
<p>Although excited about her friends returning tomorrow, Katie couldn't shake off the sad feeling that things would go back to how they used to be. She wasn't sure she was ready for that. It had taken her years to get to this point and she enjoyed it a little too much for it to end already.</p>
<p>"Bell, slow down!" Marcus shouted again.</p>
<p>Just like before, she ignored him. Her attention was on the new move she had learnt.</p>
<p>This was it; she was really going to do it. Carefully, Katie put all her weight on her arms while she pulled her legs up, one by one, on her broom. She was in a crouching position now. Slowly, she pushed her bum in the air, stretching her legs while trying to maintain her balance. Her heart raced in her chest when she let go and stood upright. She was doing it. After weeks of practice, she was standing on her broom! A broad grin appeared on her face; the feeling was amazing.</p>
<p>"Oh, fuck. Bell, watch out!" Marcus' voice sounded a bit panicked. Why was he panicking?</p>
<p>"What?" Before Katie realised what was happening, she crashed into the goal post and fell off her broom. The few seconds that she sailed through the air, waiting for the inevitable pain as she crashed into the snowy grass, were tormenting.</p>
<p>That never happened, though. One moment she was sailing down and the next, someone grabbed her upper arm and roughly hoisted her up. She didn't dare to open her eyes until she felt a broomstick under her bum and Flint pressed against her back.</p>
<p>"You stupid bint!" Marcus scolded, "Always watch where you're going! You could have hurt yourself."</p>
<p>The crease on his forehead was deep; he looked mad and kept cussing at her. However, Katie didn't hear any of that. All she saw were his grey eyes and the worry in them.</p>
<p>Maybe it was the adrenaline still running through her body or the near-death experience, but she found herself putting her hand on his cheek and leaning in. It wasn't until her lips touched his that he stopped ranting. His lips felt soft and warm and tasted like cinnamon and sugar. He pulled back far too quickly to her disappointment. It was her first kiss and it tasted like more, much more.</p>
<p>Marcus, on the other hand, didn't look like he had liked it at all. He landed them safely on the ground and quickly jumped off his broom, moving a few steps away from her. Had she been that bad at it? He didn't look repulsed, but he didn't look happy either. In fact, he still had that same angry expression and the frown was still in place.</p>
<p>"What you do that for?" he asked angrily.</p>
<p>She froze at his words. He was mad at her for kissing him. What was she supposed to do now? It was hardly how she'd expected her first kiss to end.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She kept her eyes downcast, praying this embarrassment would be over soon. Why did she have to kiss him and ruin everything?</p>
<p>"You should be," Marcus huffed, "You could have got yourself killed. Do you know who'd get blamed for that? That's right, me! And before you know it, I'll have Gryffindor coming after me and then I'd have to defend myself and probably end up in Azkaban for it. Being me, they'll probably lock me in there and throw away the key-"</p>
<p>"Flint, stop!" Katie cut him off. She couldn't make heads or tails of what he was saying. "What in Circe's name are you on about?"</p>
<p>"What I'm on about? You daft bint! I'm talking about that stunt you've just pulled." Marcus pointed at the sky. "You weren't paying attention up there."</p>
<p>Blankly, Katie blinked for a few seconds before she burst out in laughter, her previous anxiety forgotten.</p>
<p>"You're yelling at me for that?" she wheezed, trying to calm down. However, the combination of the relieve she felt and his rant were too much to take. The way he looked at her in utter confusion didn't help either.</p>
<p>"You're bonkers, Bell. Did you hit your head on the post? Should I take you to Pomfrey to look you over? I can drop you off on her doorstep, I guess. No one would be the wiser."</p>
<p>"No, no. Just give me a sec."</p>
<p>Katie flopped down on the snowy grass, not bothering with charms to keep her bum warm and dry. Once she calmed down enough, the realisation set in. He was right; she hadn't been paying attention. Instead, she had been flying around like a deranged Hippogriff on too much Wideye Potion trying to impress him. How stupid could she be? Although, in her defence, she usually got worse from him during Quidditch. It wouldn't have been her first fall off her broom.</p>
<p>"You're right. I wasn't paying attention," she conceded.</p>
<p>Marcus sat down beside her. He was wise enough to spread out his cloak and patted the spot beside him. Suddenly feeling shy, Katie scooted closer.</p>
<p>"Of course, I'm right. I usually am," he replied smugly, "Why were you laughing like that for?"</p>
<p>Katie shrugged, not wanting to answer. A slight nudge to her side told her he wasn't about to let it go. Wanting to get it over with, she mumbled something unintelligible and hoped we would leave it at that.</p>
<p>"You know, people always tell me that I tend to grunt like some troll or giant. What you've just uttered belongs right in that category. Was there even a word English in there?"</p>
<p>Rolling her eyes, Katie made a new attempt at telling him, "Ithoughtyouweremadatmeforkissingyou."</p>
<p>Marcus shook his head. "No, not a word."</p>
<p>Kate pulled her legs up and dropped her face between her knees before she mumbled, "I thought you were mad at me for kissing you."</p>
<p>He leant closer and lifted her chin so she was looking at him. Those thrice-damned butterflies were dancing the waltz in her stomach again now that he was so close.</p>
<p>"Why would you think that? I like kissing you. Wanna give it another try?"</p>
<p>When their lips touched, Katie couldn't do anything but feel, and it felt heavenly. When they finally broke apart, there was a rosy blush on his cheeks. A colour she'd never seen on him before and it made her smile.</p>
<p>Marcus wrapped his arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear,</p>
<p>"If someone asks, I kissed you first."</p>
<p>[][]</p>
<p>
  <b>Now<br/>June 1999</b>
</p>
<p>With most of the Aurors on field missions, the MLE's offices were almost deserted. The few employees present were the administrative clerks and a handful Auror-trainees with desk duty. One of these trainees was Angelina Johnson. Having been on a mission the last time, she needed to write a full reflective report about it as her training schedule required.</p>
<p>It was her last year as a trainee, the last few months to be precise, and she was looking forward to it to end. She loved being an Auror, but all the reports and the study sessions made her feel as if she was back at Hogwarts all over again. Henry Adkins, her mentor, and senior Auror had probably taken some lessons with Snape because he was a tough man to please. No matter what Angelina did, he always found a fault with it. He wasn't privy in voicing his opinion in public either, having brought her to the verge of tears several times in the past three years.</p>
<p>Fortunately, he was on a mission in Austria, allowing her some time to finish her current report without him breathing down her neck. Somehow, though, she was still stuck. For the past hour and a half, she had been staring at her parchment without inspiration to write, not even a mere scratch.</p>
<p>The mission itself had been simple: dismantling an illegal potions lab brewing unauthorised Wolfsbane potion. Straight forward, everything by the book and no spells fired. It should have been easy to put down a summary of the events and her role in it. But…nothing.</p>
<p>Angelina tapped her quill on her desk in hopes to get some inspiration until it broke, the second one today. Sighing with frustration, she threw the two halves away and opened the drawer of her desk in hopes that she'd another spare left. Pushing around in the mess that was her supply drawer, she didn't find a quill. Instead, she pulled out a wrinkled and slightly torn photograph. With a sad smile, she placed it gently on the blotter and smoothed the curled up corners.</p>
<p>It was a picture of herself, amidst her friends Katie and Alicia. All three were dressed up in their Quidditch kits, giggling with each other. The photograph was taken right before the disastrous game against Hufflepuff, she remembered. It had been one of the biggest and most painful losses Angelina had endured during her Hogwarts Quidditch career. One she had tried hard to purge from her memory back then.</p>
<p>Was it really just five years ago? It seemed a lifetime. There wasn't anything left now of that innocence or tight friendship in the picture. Alicia had gone off the grid even before the war. The last time they had spoken, more like argued, their parting words had been harsh and unkind.</p>
<p>Even at Fred's funeral, Alicia had refused to talk or look at Angelina.</p>
<p>Pushing away that thought, she focussed on the giggling image of Alicia again. They'd grown up together and had shared everything. Alicia, being two months older, had even waited for Angelina's birthday so they could open their Hogwarts letter together. The memories of staying up 'til the wee hours of the morning and discussing school, boys, and Quidditch, still put a smile on her face. Life had been easy back then; their futures had held promise and not being friends seemed impossible.</p>
<p>Sadly, the latter had come true. All because of Angelina's stubbornness to admit she had been wrong, according to Alicia. But could Angelina admit to such thing when she knew that she right? Why couldn't Alicia see it the way she saw it?</p>
<p>Shifting her eyes, Angelina focussed on the image of Katie. Another friendship she lost, another friend she hadn't talked to in a long, long time. Katie was also the reason her friendship with Alicia had ended.</p>
<p>Not that she blamed Katie. She had merely been an innocent pawn in a dastardly game and brainwashed to a point that she couldn't tell right from wrong. All because of what those bastards and what they had done to her, in specific that arsehole, Flint.</p>
<p>Did he really think that people would believe a girl like Katie would leave voluntarily with him? That she, Merlin forbid, loved him? Angelina often wondered how many potions Flint had used on Katie to make her believe that and if there was any permanent damage.</p>
<p>She hadn't found any evidence of it. Whatever he had used must have been Dark Magic. There was no other explanation for it. Once she was a full-fledged Auror, Angelina planned on using every resource available to her to prove it. She would make sure that Flint and his friends got what they deserved when she dragged their sorry arses in front of the Wizengamot.</p>
<p>How Alicia could tell her to let it go, to accept Flint as Katie's lover, was beyond her. When they found him hovering over an unconscious Katie, Angie had remembered Alli's insistence that there probably was an explanation for everything. Of course, Flint couldn't explain what those were. The several stunning hexes he was hit with had left him out cold for several days. And after he had woken up…</p>
<p>A sudden commotion in the hallway pulled Angelina from her reveries. She quickly put the photograph back in the drawer and went to see what was going on. Popping her head around the corner, she saw the door to the Portkey Room was wide open. Two legs stuck out, blood dripping from several cuts. Someone sounding like Adkins was calling for a Healer.</p>
<p>Drawing her wand, Angelina inched closer. She could hear her mentor speaking to someone, asking to stay awake.</p>
<p>"Come on John, stay awake. Just a bit longer. We're going to get you better. You have to, for Katie," he said in rising panic. "She's finally home. Stay awake, John. Come on."</p>
<p>Adkins was holding a profusely bleeding John Dawlish. His body was covered with numerous wounds, the results of cutting hexes, no doubt. Angelina was rooted to the spot; the sight of the man paralysed her. Apart from the war, she hadn't seen an Auror this severely injured before. It brought back memories she had tried hard to lock away.</p>
<p>"Don't stand there, you bint! Come here and help!" Adkins growled when he noticed her standing by the door.</p>
<p>His angry tone guided Angelina back into reality, and she dropped to knees beside her hurt colleague. In frantic succession, she muttered the same healing spells to slow down the bleeding. All the while, she prayed that a possible reunion with Katie wouldn't be at John Dawlish' funeral.</p>
<p>[][]</p>
<p>"He's so small," Mary whispered as she watched Lucas sleep in his cot. "I remember you being that small, seems like yesterday. It took your father and John ages before they were confident enough to hold you without supervision. They were afraid of breaking you, they were. Of course, your mother and I teased them relentlessly about that. There they were, two tough Aurors who faced danger on a daily basis without blinking an eye, afraid of a baby girl and her nappies."</p>
<p>Katie smiled at her godmother. "You must have had a good laugh at their expense."</p>
<p>“Oh, yes we did. Especially when it was time for a nappy change.”</p>
<p>Katie smiled softly. “Dad must have hated that.”</p>
<p>"Oh, he loathed that,” said Mary laughing. “You managed to have the worst nappy explosions whenever John and Edward were in charge. He couldn’t clean you up with magic because it gave you the most terrible rashes. So, not wanting to face your mother's wrath by using a simple scouring charm they were forced to do it by hand. It usually took them a few boxes of those Muggle wipes thingies and lots of retching to get you cleaned up. I think there are photographs of one of those happy occasions somewhere."</p>
<p>"Maybe, you can show me one day?" Hearing snippets like that made Katie choke up. Not for the first time, she wished that her mum and dad were here, guiding and telling her these kinds of stories.</p>
<p>"I'll search for them when we get home. I'll bet John has a few more stories to tell about those days. And hopefully, he'll relive it again with this little boy." Mary rubbed Lucas' belly, something she used to do when Katie had been this small.</p>
<p>Katie didn't reply; she could only hope that she would be able to change Lucas' nappy or even feed him herself one day, let alone for Uncle John to do those things.</p>
<p>Mary, noticing her sadness, moved a little closer and put her arms around her. "We'll figure this out, just wait and see."</p>
<p>Soon after their reunion that morning, Mary had insisted on being taken to St. Mungo's to meet her grandson. She'd even interrogated Healer Thorpe for almost an hour, old Auror habits die hard, to get all the detail on Lucas' condition and prognosis. It hadn't been much, but she was confident that it was enough to ask one of her old colleagues at the MLE or Department of Mysteries about it. There had to be a solution available somewhere without wasting too much precious time on locating the Flint boy.</p>
<p>Lucas was smaller than he should be for his age. Thorpe explained that the stasis prevented him from growing in efforts to avoid the curse from strengthening any further. Once a cure was found, he should catch up to babies his age within months. Mary appreciated the hopeful way the Healer tried to form his words, but it was evident to her that he was pretending. The way he held his eyes downcast and the nervous twitch of his mouth gave it away.</p>
<p>"The Mediwitches will be here soon. Do you want to say good night before they send us home?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'd like that." Mary bent over the cot, looking him over and whispering a charm to keep him safe tonight. It was still hard to comprehend that her little Katie was this boy's mother; she was still a baby herself in her eyes.</p>
<p>"When John returns tomorrow, promise me you'll hear him out on whatever he has to tell," Mary started as she and Katie left the room. "I'm not saying he knows anything, but he was deeply hurt and worried when you up and left. Just let him warble for a while, let it get out of his system, yeah?"</p>
<p>"I'll try," Katie mumbled absentmindedly. Her thoughts were still with Lucas. He had been stirring more than usual today, and she couldn't help but think the worst. What if the stasis faded before they found Marcus? Lucas was everything she had left; she didn't think she'd survive if he took a turn for the worst.</p>
<p>"Mary? Mary Dawlish?" A young, pudgy man rushed down the corridor in their direction. He was quite young and round-faced and judging by his robes, an auror trainee. He was panting when he came to a halt. "A-are you Mary Dawlish?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I am. What is this about?"</p>
<p>"Adkins sent me," he wheezed, pinching his side, "It’s J-John. He's h-hurt."</p>
<p>Mary turned pale and grabbed Katie's arm for support. Her greatest nightmare had just come true. "What happened? Where is he?"</p>
<p>"E-emergency," the auror tried to finish his sentence. "Hex… Blood…"</p>
<p>Having heard enough, Katie took Mary's hand and led her away. They were losing time listening to the man barely string a few words together. "Thank you. Let's go, Mare."</p>
<p>With that, both women hurried to get to their husband and uncle, both praying for different reasons for John to be all right.</p>
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